Placid (Luke Hemmings)

Chapter Twelve

| emma’s pov |

“Can I do anything for you? Anything at all?” I sprawled out food on my table and looked at him, making sure he wasn’t frowning.

Luke shook his head, reassuring me that he was alright. He was sitting awkwardly on my bed, his eyes darting everywhere. He looked like he was in a foreign place, and that was cute, to say in the least. But I had better things to worry about.

Ever since his confession, I couldn’t help but think that I was a horrible friend. Why didn’t I notice that? He didn’t go out much, he didn’t like talking to other people, he wasn’t happy. I was an i***t. He was just in front of me, and I didn’t even think of it.

I sat on the floor, in front of him. I had to look up because, as always, he was too tall for me. His blue eyes bore into my green ones, and we just stared at each other intently.

He was the first to turn away, “Is something wrong?”

“N-no, of course not. Nothing, there’s nothing. Everything’s great, just, you know, perfect,” I rambled, pointing in every possible direction.

He chuckled at my reaction, finally slouching, showing that he was becoming comfortable here. “But you know, um… if you’re thinking about that, don’t worry about it.”

“I’m not thinking about you hurting yourself! Of course I’m not worried that you might probably, somehow, in a way, think that I’m the worst friend you’ve ever had.” I shut my mouth. I’ve said way too much.

His expression softened, and he touched my arm, gently, afraid that he might suddenly hurt me. “You’re the best friend I’ve ever had, Emma. Don’t blame yourself. It’s… it’s me,” he said the last part in a hushed voice, like he wasn’t sure of it, either.

I was touched by what he said, somehow. Best? That was nice to hear, especially since there was always a barrier between us. But then why was he so hesitant about the reason why he hurts himself? Was it really because of him?

My doubts were pushed away as Luke handed me a book to read, it wasn’t my own, but it looked pretty interesting, because the front and back was blank. “Let’s just read,” he suggested, smiling at me.

Who was I to turn him down? I nodded, taking the book with no cover, whatsoever.

He moved to sit beside me, grabbing a book from my table while doing so.

We both didn’t speak. We were comfortable, but the tension was strong. There was something weird; I just couldn’t put a finger on what it was.

I just felt like there was someone watching us.